Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.

Site Wide Plots

Kaos :: The Beginning of the End☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.

Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.

☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.

Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.

Doppleganger Plot☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.

ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.

Cotm

Character of the Month for
June, 2017

WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!

Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.

Maybe it was the heat or something, because it was super hot down south even though the season was turning; it was supposed to be crisp and chilly and wet like always. Or I guess I’m just unaccustomed to the southern land, since, y’know, there’s shitty sand everywhere down close to the desert. But maybe it was supposed to be hot anyway because of the huge pit of lavathat was happily bubbling in this area. Can’t really miss that small detail about the land.

Anyway um….What was I talking about?

OH yeah. So maybe it was heat that was making my blood boil, or maybe it was because I had just gotten out of that brawl with that super dark, super hairy, super annoying ass hole that thought it was funny to throw mud at strangers. Like the bastard didn’t have a Ma that taught him any manners (or wash his ass, either. Yeah, still don’t like him much.) I don’t know man, all I knew was that I made sure I showed him exactly why you ain’t supposed to fuck with people you ain’t even talked to yet. They might just turn around and cleanly kick your ass.

But I hadn’t calmed down after that encounter. And maybe it was the heat or maybe it was because the adrenaline I my bones hadn’t calmed down yet—maybe there was something about that brawl that I liked, and I know it wasn’t that black ass-hat. I think there was something about the taste of fighting on my tongue; it wasn’t sweet, but it was salty in a way that soothed me, since, y’know, being angry is quickly becoming my shtick. It was better than moping and wandering around aimlessly. I guess I was still wandering aimlessly, but now hooves were flying and it--felt--great.

So anyway I was down in the hot-ass south and there was this fool eyein’ me in a way that I didn’t like. Or maybe he wasn’t even eyein’ me—maybe he hadn’t even looked in my direction. Perhaps he just happened to be there, and me, with this quick temper in my pocket and this readiness to lash at anyone and anything, was just looking for a reason to set it off. “Keep your eyes to y’self, jerk,” I spat at this huge guy, really huge with huge wings and a huge chest and huge antlers again. (No, seriously, what’s with the antlers everywhere?)

I didn’t even give him a chance to respond; I just ran for the poor bastard like I had done before, except there was no mud on my ass to justify it. Nope—I was just going for the blood and the rumble pretty much for the hell of it. I really should’ve just sat my ass down and listened to my own advice: ”You ainn’t supposed to fuck with people you ain’t even talked to yet.” But I did say something to him, right?

Gaucho might not have had a Ma to teach him manners, but what he did have, was a father to teach him tactics. Here's an easy one - a freebie: don't just run at mother fuckers who are bigger than you. Gaucho wasn't by any stretch of the imagination, a deceptively strong opponent. He had the hair and chest muscles to rival any romance-novel stud, and had a venomous snake just chillin' in his antlers. Yes, antlers. Sure they were all the rage now, but Gaucho had his before the bandwagon took off. Not only that, but his were glowing, thanks to the Sun God. Oh, do you need a few more warning signs? Sure. How about the COLLAR OF BONE SPIKES ON HIS CHEST (here's a fun little morsel for you to chew on: where do you think he got those bones?). Okay, okay, last one and then i'll be done: You know how poisonous things are usually brightly coloured, to tell other critters "HAY. YOU WILL DIE IF YOU EAT ME SO DON'T" ? Well, Gaucho has a few splashes of colour himself.

tl;dr summary: dumb choice kid.

Gaucho's antlered skull rose slowly as words slowly wafted his way. He didn't understand them, though was vaguely aware that they were directed his way. This assumption was based 100% on the fact that he was now being charged at. Others might have questioned this: Do I know you? Did I do something to you? Are you running away from something? Should I run too? Luckily Gaucho was not burdened by any of these thoughts, instead his mind was calculating the trajectory, and taking into consideration the bloody rays of the sun.

Snorting, the dun advanced towards the stocky youth. His strides were long and confident; if the child wanted to feel their flesh slam into his, he would be more than happy to oblige. But youth or not, he would not go easy. This was their doing, and he would let them experience the mistake of it in time.

His wings opened slightly as he ran, and then slightly more. When he gauged he was roughly 15 feet away, his wings beat towards his flanks sending a wave of fire towards the oddly patterned mini-God. Of course Gaucho didn't know about this lineage, though the knowledge would not have changed his decision. He would never turn away from one who wanted to test their might and merit against his.

Grunting, the WildFire tried to position himself on the unicorn's left side. Roskuld - who Gaucho took to be a boy (because really, who wouldn't), was a few hands shorter than he, which made his normal tackle-style attack rather difficult. He hadn't fought an opponent this small since...Aryel? And how many seasons ago was that? Perhaps it was good that the black-stamped boy-child had initiated this little dance. He obviously needed the practice. Following in the wake of his flames, he attempted to drop his left shoulder and slam his left side into Ros's own - if his spikes should tear into flesh, all the better.

As his shoulder lowered and his body leaned to the left, Gaucho felt an uncomfortable twinge thrum through the area. It literally felt as if a string had been plucked, and was now vibrating waves of discomfort through his shoulder, and down to his hoof. He couldn't tell if it had been the work of the boy (/girl), or if he had simply over-exerted himself. Either way, his balance was suddenly off, and he felt his normal sure-footed strides careening off to the right to try and compensate for the discomfort in his left shoulder. This move to the right was aided by the impact of his (/her) body against his - shoving him farther over to the right rather ungracefully.

As he passed and his lungs sucked in oxygen, he realized with an astonished snort that the boy was a she. Or at the very least, it tasted and smelled like a she - both senses that Gaucho was very familiar with. Although the dun was not a creature who placed particular emphasis on what society deemed socially acceptable appearance-wise, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for the boy girl.

I had just been running for this guy and he was running for me, which was pretty cool, I guess, and we were gonna get our fight on and it was gonna be great--

--but then out of nowhere I’m ablaze and it was really fucked up—like, the world just erupted into lights and heat and I wasn’t even sure what was going on or how it had happened, but my face was on fire and my chest was burning and the tips of my hair were smoldering like candles, and I was yelling-screaming-shouting more out of shock than anything because this bastard just threw fire in my face.

And it sucked.

Just….agh. Maybe, if I had thought it through, I wouldn’t have been in this predicament. Maybe, if I had followed my own advice and kept my ass in my lane and stopped messing with people I had no business messing with, my whole front side wouldn’t be a bonfire crackling merrily in the sunset. Maybe I could’ve even pulled out at that point, wiped my nose clean, apologized, and got my ass away from this antlered power-house of a flamethrower.

Maybe, I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking that much about it. ‘Cuz I was on fire.

I was super busy scream-grunting a high-pitched, embarrassing noise to really see where the guy was; my eyes were watering and burnt (not really but still), even though the blast itself had been nothing but a brief spurt of light and heat. A pretty shitty spurt, if you ask me. My valiant (stupid) charge forward was changed into something stumbling and weird, completely thrown off of any kind of balance or rhythm I had—which was only made worse when I actually ran right into the bro. It felt like…all of a sudden my left shoulder hit this brick wall that someone had put together with sticks and thorn vines instead of mortar (Holy shocking c r a p how did I not notice that spiked collar he was wearing? This guy obviously goes hard and I did NOT come correct.). The whole impact threw my body like a ragdoll to my right, my hooves flailing in the dust and the weeds trying to find some semblance of balance. Thankfully, I didn’t hit the ground—at least there wasn’t any mud this time around, right? That could’ve turned out extra-crappy.

So I’m blinded, my face hurts and my body’s being thrown everywhere. By all rights, I should’ve thrown in the white flag. But no, I started this fight and I’ll be damned if I don’t finish it. I owe this poor (JACKED) shmuck that much, at least.

Groping for something that had even the slightest semblance of sense, I realized that, if I had ran into him, then he was somewhere towards my general leftish…area. So I tried to regain my footing, sidestepping to my right, turning my horn leftwards and shooting off a bolt of shock-stuff over there, shouting something guttural and a lot-less-embarrassing in the process. My blindness was three-fold; one for the pain in my eyelids, two for the tears that bubbled and poured involuntarily down my cheeks, three for the bright flash that was etched into my retinas. The sky was darkening steadily; the sun was almost gone and the stars were coming out and it was purple way up high—it would take me several moments to readjust.

I wanted to jump this bro and wreck his ass, but that wasn’t gonna happen any time soon. It was time to try tactics, bitch. I straightened myself out and continued to back-peddle away from him (hopefully), shooting another bolt at him (hopefully) as I moved, trying to hit him or at least slow him down as I moved my achy cheeks and eyelids, trying to blink away to tears and bring back my sight. There wasn’t much of a wind, but I felt air against something slick on my chest, and I guessed that I had started to bleed from the scratches I got from his collar.

Oh, and I hurt everywhere. Jeez Ros, this wasn’t well thought-out at all.

-------

[ WC:[711/800]

ATTACKS: [2/3] Recap: Gets blasted by Gaucho's fire attack head-on, sustains minor burns all over face, neck, and chest. Left shoulder collides with Gaucho, and his spikes leave moderate scratches on her shoulder blade. Stumbles to the right and regains footing; turns body in Gaucho's general direction and fires off two clumsy bolts of lightning while attempting to back away from him.]

Almost like it was choreographed, the two ricocheted off of each other and stumbled in opposite directions. Every step that put pressure onto Gaucho's left shoulder continued to cause a twinge to pang and twang and reverberate through his leg. Just what had happened? He had never felt a muscle cramp or pull quite like this, assuming that had been the cause. His joints felt cold, like blood was being cut off, and as it slowly was forced back in by the movement of his leg as he regained his balance, felt prickly and static-y.

But what was even more surprising than the weird pain in his shoulder, was that the boy was actually a girl. As Ros sputtered and spat and blinked her eyes, still moving away from him, he had a brief moment to look at her. She was stocky and stout, with odd stripes that almost looked like they were draped over her back. Weird tentacle looking things sprung near her ears (in his mind, Mara indicated that it was actually bits of hair, but Gaucho didn't believe her. Who would wear their hair like that?), and in the center of her forehead were two sort-of fused together horns. Nothing about this picture looked even remotely feminine.

But the girl obviously had balls.

The brief moment ended as Ros turned her face blindly in his direction, shooting off a bolt of lightning. Gaucho hardly had time to react: he spun on his hind-end meaning to lurch away, but was far too slow. Magical bolts travel faster than pivoting Gaucho's, apparently. Her bolt struck him square on the ass, causing Gaucho to pin his ears, and launch his back legs up and outwards reflexively. He had been shocked one before - by the stallion Note. He remembered being surprised by the fact that electricity burned, although that foreknowledge hardly helped him deal with the pain that flared through his rump. Now that pain was bleeding through his hind-end, he realized the bolt had hit more of his right thigh than his tail bone, but the entire area was suddenly on fire and pulsing with pain. With a squeal of discomfort, Gaucho turned around to face Ros again, in time to see another bolt fly his way. The combination of her clumsy aim and his painful prancing around saved him from a second assault, though the bolt did singe the hair on his tail which produced a disgusting aroma.

Wanting to favour both his front left leg and right hind, Gaucho leaned slightly to the left, fanning his wings outward to aid with balance while he let his right leg continue to scream in pain. Ears still pinned, and not wanting the boy girl to come any closer, Gaucho decided that if she wanted to play the let's throw magic around game, he would happily oblige. "Hey Kid-" He called through clenched teeth - and although his voice revealed the pain he was in, he actually sounded fairly amused. "- Like bears?" Fire poured in a stream from his antlers, creating two massive shapes - nearly the size of a large pony each - on the ground before him. They morphed and swayed until the shape of two bears became apparent, composed entirely of fire. Coal-coloured eyes bore out of molten red faces as the bears raced forward. The creatures moved quickly, unburdened by whatever physical laws would normally apply to their flesh-and-bone counterparts, and moving as a single unit of fire instead. They moved towards Ros, angling slightly and meaning to come at each of her shoulders to force her back and give Gaucho a reprieve.

The bears snarled and lunged, paws outstretched meaning to burn her with claws made of fire. They aimed for her shoulder and eyes, roaring with voices that sounded like explosions.

As the creatures moved forwards, Gaucho gently shifted the weight back and forth, alternating between putting pressure on his front left leg and back right. His front left was almost free of the buzzy static-y feeling, and now simply felt stiff. His right hind however, while able to support weight, was clearly burned. Where her bolt had struck had singed the skin away and charred the flesh beneath. Clear liquid dripped out of the inch-wide burn mark, revealing raw bloody skin. He could move well enough now, but his right thigh felt tight, and each step felt like it was allowing a knife to cut at the wound.

Ears pinned and flaming wings outspread, he waited to see what the kid would do.

Okay, cool, I thought hazily as I listened to his cries of discomfort, I got him, he’s hurting. I didn’t know how much damage I had actually done, though, and it wasn’t very sportsmanlike of me to revel in his pain. I mean...anyway.

I kept blinking hard, my cheeks smarting from the burns that would probably start to blister by the end of the fight. I continued to back away—smaller steps, because I didn’t want him out of my field of senses, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of keeping still. I might’ve hit him, but that didn’t mean he was immobile. The tears kept rushing down my face as I tried to clear my vision—but, thankfully, the dark, smeared images were starting to solidify into real shapes that weren’t lined with retina stars. Didn’t really help; this guy was dark-pelted and the sun had surely gone below the horizon now, leaving only a trace of its light in the form of rapidly dwindling pink and gold smudges in the sky. Pretty soon they would be gone, too.

I saw something shift in the indistinct shadows. My suspicions were proven correct before I even had a chance to think them; a gruff, heavily masculine voice, hoarse with pain, asked me something stupid that made my stinging brows lift. “The hell—?” I muttered, wondering what in the world was gripping him to know about what sort of affinity I may or may not have concerning bears. Like, the fuck? I thought the point of a fight was to avoid small talk?

But then I caught his meaning because oh shit this guy had more tricks up his sleeve than I realized. That bastard made bears. Out of fire! Who--? What---? How….what is that?

“Oh shit,” I unintentionally said out loud. Honestly, that was all I really could do. How the hell do you fight fire bears? Who teaches that?

I didn’t have time to think about it, or plan anything. They were flying toward me, all kinds of flaming claws and teeth, and it was time to teach myself how to fight a fire bear.

With how fast they were running towards me, there was no way I could jerk left or right and try to avoid either bear; turning either side would just invite the entire side of my body for fire feasting, or whatever the bears were gonna do if they touched me (maybe explode or something?) for whichever bear I had turned closest to. And if I ran forward fast enough, I’d keep my opponent in my sight and probably avoid an all-out mauling—but I’d still get hit, probably by both bears, in passing. Nor did I think that I could run away from them fast enough; they’d just catch up for me anyway, and besides, I wasn’t ready to turn my back on Fire Man.

So booking it forward as fast as I could was the road to take. Obviously. Not like I thought about it or anything.

The bears were closing in on me in a V formation, and I broke out as fast as I could for the space in between the bears. But oh shit I didn’t feel as though I got enough traction under my hooves to launch myself as fast as I had imagined. Shit, shit, shit! I couldn’t stop running by that time, and claws were looming right in front of me, and there was no stopping and no escape from it.

SHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAGHGHG awgh JEEZ it was awful.

One set of claws swiped at my face—and, miraculously, I dodged those, ducking my head down quickly so all they could do was uselessly grasp at my mane (and set it on fire) as I flew by. But my whole right side was torture because that bear had been reaching for my shoulder and, as I ran passed it, claws made of molten flame cut into the right side of my chest and razed me all the way along my side, raking my stomach, my thigh, alighting the very tip of my tail. Fire swirled all around me and holy jeez if I was hurting before then I was surely going to die that very moment.

But I had a clear shot of him now. My eyes still hurt but the tears were drying up now and his wings illuminated him clearly, highlighting every muscle and sinew of his that I had decided to fuck around with. I was still running, and this time when I shot my bolt at him, I wasn't guessing his location.

“FUCK YOUR BEARS,” I screamed at him, gasping and grimacing, my horn bursting with a shower of electricity.

No, seriously, fire bears?Jeez.

-------

[ WC:[793/800]

ATTACKS: [3/3] Recap: Tries to run in between the charging bears, toward Gaucho. One bear swipes at her mane and sets the tips of it one fire. The other bear mauls her right side as she passes it, swiping her shoulder, stomach, thigh, and the tips of her tail, setting that on fire as well. She aims a bolt head-long at Gaucho after she passes the bears.]

There was something so very satisfying about seeing the look of horror, shock, and fear wiped across the faces of those who saw his fire creations. The magic had been a gift from the God of the Sun, and in that fact the dun took great pleasure, for it was with the deity's own power that Gaucho fought and trained. The look that displaced the boy/girl's lips as words fell out caused Gaucho's own dark lips to part in a wider smirk, despite the pain that still gnawed and buzzed in his hind-end. The kid was okay, getting one hit in on a creature like Gaucho was something to be proud of, but it wasn't something that should make you arrogant. Now he wasn't sure if it was arrogance that choreographed the boy/girl's movements, but it certainly wasn't experience. Oh well, his initial judgement of the scenario seemed to be correct: it was a dumb choice on the kid's part to attack him in the first place.

Still trying to simultaneously remove weight from his front and hind legs, Gaucho continued to awkwardly prance in place as he watched his fire creations collide with the oddly-patterned child. He heard the guttural assortment of syllables as they left his (no wait, her) lips), and watched as fire lingered on her mane. Why on earth would she have thought running between them would work? Had she really never been around fire before? Creatures that big would throw a lot of heat. Maybe the boy/girl was retarded...given the physical appearance, the poor decisions, and the vulgar vocabulary ...

Before Gaucho could consider the mental deficiencies of Ros any further, his body was put into motion. The kid burst from what was now a cloud of fire (the bears bursting almost as soon as their attacks had ended), still running straight for him. If nothing else, the kid had stamina. He wasn't quite sure how since she had managed to place herself right in the middle of each fiery attack he threw her way, but ... must be a kid thing. Children could always stay warmer for longer, and play even when everyone else was tired. Maybe whatever stamina she drew from was like that. Or maybe if she decided to stop she might pass out, and this was her body's way of fighting that.

Although the Wildfire wasn't certain if Ros's scalded body possessed any more magic, the tingling in his thigh suggested that he not find out. As she rocketed towards him, Gaucho launched himself forward. With his wings already outspread it only took a few strides to lift himself into the darkening sky. He angled himself upwards, meaning to glide just above the charging youth, who was once again spewing obscenities. Blue light swam behind him as his hind legs lowered from his body, meaning to kick Ros's withers and shoulders as he flew overhead. Although the flash of light disoriented him, causing his weight to shift slightly, the black patterns on her back made for an easy visual target to aim for.

Grunting as his hooves retracted to his body, Gaucho flew forward before making a large arch. The light from his wings caused a brilliant and beautiful array of patterns to appear on the darkening ground below. His gaze sought to find what the blue light had been, and a smouldering puff of smoke rising from the ground provided an answer. So she did still have more magic. Grunting, Gaucho moved his hind-legs as he flew, finding them offering less resistance and pain than before. Landing, Gaucho tried to place himself about 20 feet away, stormy gaze focused intently and now quite seriously upon Ros. Likely she would either give up or send another bolt his way. Nostrils flared, he raised his flaming wings as if to indicate that she wasn't the only one with magic remaining.

"Done?" He shouted across to her, the confidence in his voice unmistakable. He could continue on, but he doubted that she could.

My side was flaring with pain with every step and it felt like my skin was crawling right off of me. I snorted and grunted, heaving as I charged for the flaming stud. I didn’t get that far, to be honest; I shot my bolt at him--at him this time, not just a blind shot—and after that my knees wobbled and my hooves stumbled underneath me. And--oh yeah-- my mane was still on fire, and I was beginning to feel that heat start to warm up the topline of my neck (not like I had that much of a mane to begin with). And after all of that—after having my eyes wide open and my vision cleared up and everything and I got a solid look at the bastard--

--I miss anyway.

He was flying into the air, and at that point I was too frustrated and hurting to follow where he was going. The flames that still flickered on the ends of my hair caused lights to dance at the corner of my vision, doing nothing to help my scratchy, irritated irises to really pinpoint a bullet-fast fucker in the sky anymore. I stumbled some more, jerking out of a “charge” into more of a flimsy, awkward trot; then everything failed after that, because something huge or strong or whatever struck me from above with a—

--WHAP—

--and all of me hit the dust, my body thrown to the ground like a ragdoll. My shitty vision blacked for an instant; the world spun around me and stars erupted inside my head. The most I could possibly do was make sure I landed on the side that wasn’t smoky and throbbing and gross with looseish skin. Not that it didn’t still hurt to be thrown on my side like that, because now my shoulders were stinging and throbbing too, bludgeoned as they were by what I could’ve only assumed where hooves.

My molars were grinding against the steady throb of my body—but that was the only movement I dared to make. Because ow I was hurting and, even though everything in my heart was rebelling against the burn and the ouch and everything sensible about this situation, I learned one more lesson. Which I guess was admitting defeat and teaching myself how to sew a white flag. Or…something. Jeez, the point was that there was a time to lay your ass down and stay there. Every fight didn’t need to be fought; every fight had to end someday.

My ear flicked a little when I heard him yell at me from across the way--still ready to fight it seemed, like I had been nothing but some gnat in his ear. Which, I guess, I had been. He had been minding his own business, hadn’t he? Hmph. Well, guess he took care of business well and truly, at any rate.

*"Done?"*

NO.

…Yes.

I don’t know, man.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, my voice noticeably flimsier than his had been. Not like I had anything to be mad at him about. He had done everything I wanted him to do—and now, all I really wanted to do was lay there and throb for a good, long while.

ROSKULDRealism [+3.5]
Critical hits are literally the most damage you could possibly take! I appreciated what you wrote, particularly the realism, but I feel such an important rolled deemed a slightly more permanent wound. However, I thought you did an excellent job with the series of very dramatic rolls! A critical hit and a critical miss were big deals and you handled them well.

Emotion [+2]
Roskuld is always so full of anger and rage, but I appreciated the fact that she was able to take an honest look at herself and let her emotions control her anyway.

Prose [+4.5]
Can you imagine if wars were actually started with this? "I dunno, man."
Wonderful<3

Readability [+2]
Very easily readable

Finally tally: 11.5 + (12*2) = 46.5 HP

*******************************************

GAUCHORealism [+3.5]
With the first post, you rolled a 5, which is the second highest level of damage you can take. However, I felt that it was not the intensity or length of damage that it should have been. Still, I think you managed to make up for it very well in your continuing posts!

Emotion [+2]
I loved the very deep arguments going on with himself about Roskuld's gender. It was very humorous and great to read.

Prose [+4]
You had very good prose and great readability through out this battle with almost no grammatical errors that I could find. The area that I would work on improving would just be flow. While everything was very easy to read, you could improve with some transitions.